


The Professionals Part I

by teacupsandtime



Series: The Professionals [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Fluff, Hannibal has cool friends, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Episode: s1e8 God I'm Tired, Villanelle loves Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 06:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17761481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupsandtime/pseuds/teacupsandtime
Summary: A couple of years into life on the run with Will, Hannibal is called upon by a dear friend.





	The Professionals Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_right_ankle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_right_ankle/gifts).



“Do you have plans this Sunday?”

Will looked up as Hannibal came into the living room, pulling reading glasses away from his face as he did.

“I’m about 100% certain that you know the answer to that,” he answered, taking a quick sip of coffee from the small cup in his hand. “But I appreciate the polite gesture.”

Hannibal took a seat at the other end of the couch as Will muted the movie playing in front of him.

“An old friend of mine has reached out and requested that we meet,” he explained.

“You have friends?” Will chided with a lift of his eyebrow.

He placed his cup on the table in front of him and made a “come here” gesture with his upturned fingers. Shifting, Hannibal turned and pressed his back into the arm of the couch and placed his bare feet in Will’s lap. Will’s fingers found the arch of his left foot and began to rub.

“As it happens, I do,” Hannibal said. “Though admittedly not many so when they call on me I am inclined to respond.”

“Who is he?” Will asked, his thumb rubbing against his ankle.

“ _She_ ,” Hannibal corrected. “Her name is Villanelle. We’ve remained in sporadic communication over the years, but mostly through letters.”

Will ran a hand slowly up his shin before moving back down towards his toes.

“She is going to be in Vienna and has requested that we meet her Sunday morning.”

Will stopped moving his fingers.

“ _We_?” he asked.

Hannibal nodded.

“What does your friend know about me?”

“She has a sparse understanding of my affection for you,” he said with a slight tilt of his head. “She knows that you are very important to me and has thus requested to meet you.”

Will sighed and pushed his fingers into Hannibal’s arch again.

“Okay,” Will said. “What do you think she wants?”

“I’m unsure,” Hannibal answered. “Though I suspect it may be because she’s been asked to kill me.”

When Will paused again, Hannibal continued.

“She is a professional assassin.”

Will’s eyes widened dramatically.

“ _Oh_!” he exclaimed. “Of course she is.”

Hannibal flexed his right foot in Will’s lap, smiling as Will’s hands moved to it.

“And you’re wanting to meet with a woman who very well may be being paid to kill you because. . .?”

“There are very few people in this world who I believe are capable of ending my life,” Hannibal explained. “Villanelle is one of them. Were this her intention, she would simply do it. Besides, the letter she left requesting our attendance was outside the door this morning.”

That made Will’s body freeze.

“What?”

Hannibal nodded.

“How does she know where we live?” Will asked, voice slightly raised. “How did she find you?’

“She is very good at what she does,” Hannibal explained calmly. “We are in no danger from her, Will. This was not a threat. But it would be rude to turn her down.”

Will released Hannibal’s feet.

“Will you show me the letter?”

He stood without answering, moving back to his study and returning a few moments later with an opened envelope. He handed it to Will who pulled the lined paper - pulled from a spiraled notebook - from it:

Hannibal -

I will be at Café Central in Vienna this Sunday at 10 AM.

I would like to see you. Please come and bring your man.

 

Will flipped the envelope over in his hand. The face was blank. No name nor return address. 

“How do you know this is from her?”

Hannibal only tilted his head.

**

“She’s late,” Will said as the waiter dropped off their lattes and moved away.

The morning air was cool and smelled of sugar, the sky above them was a vibrant blue. They sat at a small round table shoulder to shoulder, an empty chair opposite them.

“She isn’t,” Hannibal said. “I would wager she’s been here a least half an hour longer than we have.”

Will looked around the small outdoor patio, seeing only a solitary man at the far end. Peering through the large window at his side he spied numerous customers all seeming to be eager to move into their day once they’d procured their coffee.

He felt Hannibal’s fingers brush his knee.

Turning back, Will found a young blonde woman with round cheeks pulling the empty chair towards her and coming to sit with a forceful motion. She leaned back, hands in her lap, and smiled.

“Hello Hannibal.”

He grinned widely at her.

“Hello Villanelle.”

Her white teeth dazzled behind her pink lips as she looked over at Will with amused eyes.

“You must be Will.”

Reaching forward, Will extended his hand to her. The young woman grabbed it eagerly and shook, turning his hand over in her fingers and running her thumb over the ring before she released him.

She lifted her brows and opened her mouth in anticipation as she looked at Hannibal who was leaning back with his hands clasped over his knees, fingers hidden from sight.

He nodded.

“Husbands?” she said like a giddy child. “You got married?”

Will shifted in his seat and looked to the man at his right.

“You should have told me,” she continued with a quick dramatic pout of her lips. “I could have been your flower girl.”

She spoke with a Russian accent light on the back of her tongue.

“Were I able to find you in time perhaps,” Hannibal said. “Though it was a perfunctory affair.”

“Okay, okay,” she said as the waiter returned to take her order.

“You were a profiler for the FBI, Will?” she asked once he’d gone again. “In the pursuit of Hannibal. _The Chesapeake Ripper._ ”

She playfully growled the moniker. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “Though I didn’t know at the time.”

“And he sent you to prison?"

“Among other things.”  
  
Hannibal remained stoic beside him.

“And you married him?”

“I did.”

She grinned, eyes moving to Hannibal who regarded her fondly.

“And you?” Hannibal asked. “I read - about Anna.”

She sniffed and lowered her gaze.

“I didn’t love her anymore.”

Will felt a sadness radiating off her, simmering on top of something new and exciting. 

“But there is someone else?”

She gave him a small smirk.

“I think so,” she said. “I haven’t seen her in a while. We are . . . taking a break.”

As she spoke she pulled at the cloth of her shirt at her abdomen.

“Last time I saw her she stabbed me,” she said nonchalantly. “Right here. Pushed a knife into me.”

Though he tried, Will couldn’t suppress the small laugh that pushed from his lips.

“Hannibal why does your husband laugh at my pain?” she said with an exaggerated expression of hurt.

“He stabbed me,” Will smiled. “Same area.”

He ran a hand across his belly.

“Hannibal! You stabbed your husband?!”

“We were not married at the time,” he defended. “But yes. I did.”

“Gutted may be a better word,” Will added.

Villanelle grinned and motioned to Will’s face with a quick tilt of her chin.

“Did he do that to you too?”

He touched the scar on his forehead that had largely faded.

“And that?"

She pointed to his cheek.

“Yes,” Will said motioning to his forehead and then to the side of his face. “And no.”

“I hope you give as good as you take,” she said slyly as Will laughed. “This is a fun conversation. What have the two of you been up to?”

“I think you know very well,” Hannibal said. “After all, you found us.”

“Yes but that doesn’t mean I know _everything_. Just most things,” she continued.

Will took a sip of his latte as the waiter returned with Villenelle’s.

“Has Hannibal told you all about me?” she asked.

He looked towards Hannibal again briefly, as if unsure of what to say.

“A bit,” he said. “I am curious how the two of you found each other.”

They both smiled, lips curved up with pleasant nostalgia.

“Hannibal found me,” she said. “I was first coming into my own and he tracked me down to offer words of _encouragement_.”

“A most formidable task,” Hannibal added. “Locating you. Though well worth the effort.”

“Yes, you managed to do what no intelligence agency has done,” she grinned. “Not yet anyway.”

There was a slight tenseness in her voice.

“Are you in danger?” Hannibal asked softly. “If that why you wanted to meet?”

She laughed, eyes alight.

“Me?” she said. “No. I am fine, only bored. I’ve been looking to take my expertise elsewhere.”

“Are you no longer with The Twelve?”

“That’s a long, dull story,” she said “But they don’t give me enough to do so I’ve been freelancing. This is why I wanted to speak to you.”

Hannibal lifted his hands from his lap and took a sip from his cup.

“You were sent to kill me?’

Will couldn’t help how his eyes widened as he looked to Hannibal and then to the woman in front of him who nodded once. He felt his chest tighten.

Hannibal kept his eyes locked on her as he spoke.

“Was it a wealthy woman with dark hair and a cane?” He asked. “Or a woman with wide eyes and a very somber expression.”

Villanelle tilted her head.

“Have you made a lot of women angry lately, Hannibal?” she smiled, not waiting for his answer. “I met no women. Only some ugly men who called themselves Dante and Virgil.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“Precisely,” she said as she looked at him.

Hannibal finished his drink with a small click of his tongue.

"You have decided not to though,” he said.

“Of course. I like your face,” she replied fondly. “But I told them I would so we need to figure something out.”  
  
Above them a grouping of clouds moved and covered the sun, making the patio grow dim.

“You want to come to my apartment?” she asked, face bright. “You could make me - us - dinner. We could watch a movie! I rented this one I’ve always wanted to see about an older male assassin who takes a young girl under his wing. It will be fun!”

There was a loneliness to her voice that Hannibal and Will both understood too well. They cast each other a quick look before Will spoke. 

“That sounds nice.”

She practically lifted out of her chair.

“Really?” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful! We can stop at the market on the way!”

Will quickly finished the last of his latte as he saw that she was standing to leave.

“Nothing funny for dinner, Hannibal Lecter,” she smiled with a playful finger pointed in his direction. “I know you.”

**

They stopped at the local market on the way to Villanelle’s apartment where Hannibal purchased everything he needed to make a pizza with white sauce, figs, caramelized onion, and goat cheese. Villanelle talked to Will the entire way - about his favorite music, his hobbies, his facial hair, everything.

Hannibal smiled as he listened to them, Will maintaining civility though he clearly found it hard to keep up.

“I have drinks!” she said before they’d barely gotten the door closed.

From her refrigerator she pulled out a bottle of champagne and three glass flutes from her cabinet.

“Hannibal I know you like wine,” she said. “But this is more exciting.”

They thanked her as they took their drinks, following the young woman around as she gave them a quick tour before motioning for them to sit on the couch. She turned on the TV and plopped down to Hannibal’s right, Will on his left. They watched the movie in silence, only speaking when Villanelle offered more champagne which they both took.

When it was over, Hannibal prepared dinner under their watchful eyes.

“You have a great ass,” she said to Will, her voice heavy with alcohol.

He laughed out loud and without reservation, color rushing to his face.

“He does,” she added looking to Hannibal who nodded in agreement as he pulled the pizza from the oven.

When they were done eating, Villanelle stood and turned on her radio, finding an upbeat instrumental tune and opening her arms wide.

“Hannibal, dance with me!”

Will watched as he rose to his feet and went to her, her arm around his shoulder and his hand at her waist. She laughed and smiled as he moved her around the small space of her living room.

“You dance so well for an old man!”

Her joy was infectious, spreading to Hannibal who gazed at her with the adoration of a proud father. When the song ended, a new, slower tune began and she sighed and lightly pushed him away from her.

“You,” she motioned to Will. “Dance with your husband. I will be right back.”

Will finished his third - or was it fourth? - glass of champagne and went into Hannibal’s warm embrace. The older man’s hands wrapped around his lower back while Will clasped his fingers together behind Hannibal’s neck.

“I like your assassin friend,” he whispered into his ear.

Hannibal kissed the side of his neck.

“Yes, she is a marvel.”

Will pulled his head up, feeling as though his feet didn’t touch the ground, and kissed his mouth. Hannibal’s lips were always so soft. He kissed him again, pushing his mouth apart and letting his tongue slip inside. He felt Hannibal’s hands tighten on the small of his back.

“Hey! I said ‘dance with your husband’ not ‘kiss’!” Villanelle called. “Not unless you want to invite me to join.”

Will felt his face flush again as he turned towards her. She was standing in front of her dining table, obscuring something behind her back. She beckoned for them to come closer and then moved away, revealing a small but ornately decorated white cake. On the top of it sat two buttercream roses dusted with edible gold.

“ _Of course_ I knew you got married,” she said sweetly to Hannibal. “I read Tattlecrime.”

“Jesus,” Will laughed, his eyes moving over the cake. “Freddie Lounds? You? Really?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I find her insightful. And she has amazing hair. I wanted to celebrate with you.”

For a moment, Hannibal looked as though he might cry; his eyes shone with emotion.

“Thank you, Villanelle,” he said. “This was very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, eyes also shimmering. “But don’t read too much into it. I really love cake.”

Hannibal sliced them all a piece as Villanelle prepared coffee, pouring them all small cups. They ate the faint lemony sweetness together and then returned to the couch in the same configuration as before. After about 30 minutes of polite conversation, Hannibal felt a weight fall on his shoulder and found Will asleep at his side. He took the nearly empty coffee cup from his limp hands and gave it to Villanelle who placed it on the table.

“Did you really stab him?” she whispered. “This man that you love?”

Hannibal brought a careful hand into Will’s hair.

“I did.”

“Did you love him when you stabbed him?”

“Very much.”

“Then why?’

He looked at her, the features in his face soft and open.

“Because he broke my heart.”

She swallowed and fought against the tears that were welling in her eyes. Keeping his fingers in Will’s hair, Hannibal placed his free hand gently on her knee.

“Don’t change,” he said softly. “I know you are hurting. I know that you feel alone. But you are magnificent, Oksana. One day, you will find someone who is worthy of you. And should you not, you’ll have me.”

A tear fell down her cheek.

“Is it the MI5 agent?”

Villanelle tilted her head.

“6,” she corrected. “Yes.”

Hannibal nodded, pushing air out of his nose in a sharp exhale.

“You and I are so very alike,” he said. “Drawn to those most likely to hurt us. I am sorry that you are hurting like this.”

“I want her to love me,” she said. “She’s fascinated with me, curious about me. But I want her to love me.”

Hannibal squeezed her knee.

“Do you kill people together?” she asked him.

“Yes.”  
  
“Do you eat them?”

“We do."

“I want to be understood,” she said. “Accepted. Where did you get your tie?”

Hannibal smiled.

“Baltimore,” he answered. “Custom.”

“That was not the answer I was expecting.”

“Yes, well, I’ve become rather sentimental in my old age.”

She smiled and lightly pushed at his shoulder.

"Did Margot Verger and Alana Bloom send you to kill me?"

She shook her head.

"Did anyone?"

"No."

Hannibal nodded and let his fingers tap against her leg. 

"Do you want me to kill them?"

"No."

She pushed back into the couch, disappointed. 

“I’m going to wake him,” he said. “And we’re going to go home. I was sincere in what I said: don’t betray who you are. Not ever.”

In one moment, she was gone - lost in her thoughts. In the next, she was back.

“I won’t.”


End file.
